Camelot Moments
by WandSparksRCoolerThanFireworks
Summary: A series of Oneshots set in Camelot. Not necessarily chronological. Fluff. FemMerlin.
1. Chapter 1

Merlin loved storms. She always had. She adored the release of the muggy pressure in the air, the cascades of cleansing water, the clash of colliding clouds beating the dust from the earth – the ambient magic of the ground reaching up in tendrils and mixing freely with lightning fires, streams of rain and the air swirling it all together.

It was all so beautiful. In fact, it was so unbelievably magnificent that that Merlin had given up all pretense of working. When Arthur entered his chambers, the polishing rag loosely wrapped around her hand was forgotten, as was the line of boots she was supposed to be cleaning. He scowled at the look of distant awe on her face as she squinted through the window made his already clenched insides twist guiltily as he barked out.

"Close those shutters, will you? Then maybe a simple bit of weather won't stop you doing what you're supposed to." He finished snidely, and sat stiffly behind his desk with a book on Mercia's history (a delegation would be arriving soon to renegotiate trade routes), because he was far too tense to even contemplate lounging on his spacious bed.

"Yes sire," came the too cheerful response. Arthur fought the urge to bury his face in his hands. Thunder and a jovial, talkative Merlin were not his idea of a relaxing night.

Not that Arthur was afraid of storms, of-course. It was just rain, after all. Even if there was that one time, when he and his knights were hunting, a bolt of lightning struck a tree and the resulting falling branch almost crushed him and Sir Leon. Or that other time, when bandits were chasing them through the forest, but the roar of the thunder was so low and loud that it was impossible to tell when they'd lost them.

Okay, so maybe Arthur found storms just a little bit worrying. But that was understandable. After all, he reasoned, sorcerers wouldn't be able to summon storms if they weren't dangerous, because sorcerers were evil so the storms were probably evil too. Therefore, some caution was necessary, wise even.

"Are you alright?" Merlin's voice was soft compared to the chaos swirling in the storm outside, and the unanticipated care there soothed him, just a little.

"Fine," he answered gruffly. Even with his eyes firmly on the page of his book, he could feel her gaze scrutinizing him. He couldn't say the quiet stretched out between them – the damn storm was far too loud for that – but a long moment passed before she spoke again.

"Good, I'll be off then, Gaius wants me to catch up on some reading," She said, the levity returning to her tone.

"See you tomorrow," Arthur dismissed, steadfastly ignoring the rising panic stemming from being alone with the thunder raging outside.

"Actually…" Merlin's hesitation made him look up, "Do you mind if I do it here? Gaius is out tonight."

"No problem," he replied, a little too quickly, "have a seat."

She shot him a grateful smile, grabbed book from her satchel (she never remembered to return it to her room after hunting trips) and sat in the chair he pushed towards her. The gentle sound of turning pages and her absent humming allowed him to relax somewhat as the storm faded outside, until there was only a gentle patter of raindrops on the window pane.


	2. Chapter 2

Uthur stared at his son

"Arthur, are you actually telling me that you returned from hunting two weeks late because you not only lost your servant, but let yourself be captured by bandits in the name of retrieving said servant, then lost a few days upon realizing you didn't quite have a functioning escape plan, impersonated a travelling minstrel duo to avoid the suspicion of Cenred's knight patrols, were forced to continue to minstrel façade after they escorted you out of the forest you were "lost" in to pay for a night in a tavern, and then had to go the long way around the mountains on returning to avoid crossing paths with the aforementioned group of knights whom escorted you away from the forest you were pretending to be lost in?" asked Uthur, skepticism warring with bewilderment for dominance.

"Well it all sounds ridiculous when you put like that…" His son's begrimed hand rose to cuff the back of his matted hair as he offered the faithfully recovered, but equally filthy, servant a sheepish glance. "But, yes, that about covers it."

Merlin nodded her agreement. Uther blinked, the bewilderment overpowering the skepticism for now, and draining his motivation to do anything but accept the absurd explanation. They were both in one piece, at least. There was just one thing:

"How in the world did you manage to impersonate minstrels?"

Arthur stared at him in befuddlement.

"That's what you got from that story?"

"I'm not too sure where to start," Uthur admitted, sipping his mead, and after a moment of contemplation, filling a glass each for Arthur and Merlin too. Poor girl looked as if she needed it, if only to resist the urge to strangle his son.

She accepted it with a brief word of thanks, before drinking a long sip that impressed him. It had taken years before he could do that stone sober without grimacing, and she looked young enough that he doubted she'd had much chance to sample mead before.

"We told them I had a throat malady that was affecting my voice," Arthur explained, with a shrug. A deplorable habit he had been convinced Arthur had grown out of. "Merlin can really sing though, did you know?"

No he didn't. Surprised, he looked to the girl, who rolled her eyes. "It just seemed that way because they were all so drunk."

"I wasn't though," Arthur protested.

"Yeah you were, you lightweight," Merlin snorted, then straightened up, "Um, sire."

"So you were impersonating a minstrel, and drunk?" Uthur shook his head. "This just gets worse and worse."

Merlin relaxed again when she wasn't called out on her impertinence. As insults go, calling his son a lightweight was tame after the fortnight she'd had.

"Well," Uthur mused, "I suppose you probably want to rest after all of that. Thank you for bringing him back in one piece, Merlin."

"You're welcome, my Lord," Merlin returned his nod, then took the chance to leave. Uthur managed to wait until her footsteps had faded down the corridor before he laughed.

"Minstrels?"

Arthur smiled wryly.

"It was Merlin that blurted it out, not me," he admitted, "I think she was rather horrified by my lack of musical talent later."

Uthur nodded thoughtfully, then requested some more detail about the bandits they'd being taken prisoner by, relaxing with Arthur's prediction that Cenred's knights would likely take care of them, and more so as the conversation turned to more genial matters.

It was good to have his son home.


	3. Chapter 3

"The flowers you ordered, sire," George, perfect sod that he was, did an excellent job of appearing neither confused nor curious as to why the Prince had asked him to fetch a bouquet of flowers. He set them softly on the desk, careful to avoid the parchments littered there.

"Thank-you George. That will be all," Arthur dismissed, a light blush dusting his cheeks as the King gazed at him, his raised eyebrows and twitching lips hinting that he would like an explanation, and would probably be mocking him for a while after this. However, he was Royalty, so he at least had the dignity of waiting until George left the room before hounding his son for an answer.

"It's Merlin's birthday," he admitted casually, if it did not concern him in the slightest. Uthur laughed anyway, because the pink staining his cheeks suggested otherwise, as did the gentle placing of the flowers in the water jug "so they wouldn't die."

"Should I be worried about you two?" He asked, smirking.

"No!" Said Arthur, forcefully, "I just thought I should say thanks for saving my life so many times, that's all."

"Ahh," Uthur conceded, "It's got nothing to do with Merlin's admitting to Morgana that no had ever bought her flowers last week then. Or that she's still annoyed that you went hunting without any back up, and then failed to show anything even remotely resembling the musical talent her escape plan required."

Arthur's blush extended all the way to his hairline.


	4. Chapter 4

"Arthur," Merlin tapped his blanket-clad shoulder gently, knowing this would be enough to rouse him out in the wilds, "It's your shift."

Awake immediately, he shed the blanket, and stepped over the slumbering bodies to do a circuit of camp, his alertness a far cry from his usual bleary-eyed grumbles in the citadel. Seeing him act this protectively over his knights was one of the things that had convinced Merlin that maybe the dragon had the right idea about Arthur after all. He may complain about the odd load of paperwork, and occasionally give her an obscene amount of chores just so he wasn't the only one snowed under, but he took his responsibility as Prince seriously.

Merlin unrolled her bed spread carefully so she'd get it straight the first time. She didn't want to wake Sir Leon, or any of the other nights, whose sleep patterns were interrupted enough by the night watch.

There were only six knights accompanying Arthur on the border patrol, so the circuit grounds immediately surrounding their small camp didn't take long. By the time Merlin's eyes had slipped away from the stars as sleep began to overtake her, Arthur was back. So she noticed when a weight fell on top of her, and tucked under her feet so she couldn't kick off the blanket as she was prone to in her sleep. She noticed, and she smiled, mumbling her thanks without opening her eyes so he wouldn't try to abort the thoughtful gesture in a fit of embarrassment.

"Go to sleep, Merlin," Arthur ordered, a touch of awkwardness in his tone at being caught.

She complied.

2 (very) short updates!


	5. Chapter 5

"Gaius, do you have any idea what that absolute fool of a prat-headed, idiotic excuse for a man has just done? Honestly, when the King pulls me up for treason after I murder him, you can at least know the crime was justified," Merlin began ranting angrily the second she stormed through the door, hardly pausing for breath as she exchanged her satchel for a knife to slice through medicinal plants her mentor had requested she prepare after work.

"I mean, alright, falling for the _friend_ card when he wanted me to cover for him yesterday was daft of me, but there is absolutely no way I'm spending another day in the stocks tomorrow so he can go and flirt with his _beloved_ , _"_ she griped, hacking at a particularly stubborn root. Precision didn't matter when it would all be ground together anyway.

"I don't know what he sees in her anyway," She continued, "Yes, she's stunning, but she's also a total cow to just about everyone but Arthur, and there's no way the king is going to let him marry her anyway. I mean, she and her father are claiming to be royalty, but they're also from some land no one has ever heard of, ever. Bit suspicious."

"It is, yes," the voice that answered her was sardonically amused, but it was distinctly not Gaius's. Startled, Merlin spun to face the living room, knife held in front of her, which she abruptly dropped upon seeing King Uthur across the room.

"My Lord!" she gasped, empty hands held up to show that she was unarmed. "I am so sorry…"

She trailed off as the king shook his head, looking annoyed, but not murderously so. Sheepishly, she closed her mouth and let her hands drop in front of her, wondering if this was a situation in which she was expected to curtsey. Bowing was never really a thing in Ealdor, so she still felt like she was catching up.

"What's this about Arthur and Lady Sophia?" he demanded. Merlin nearly had a heart attack when he crouched to pick up the knife, but then remembered that no, she hadn't managed to out herself as a sorceress during her ramblings when he set it onto a side table out of harm's way.

"They've been spending a lot of time together is all, Sire" she answered, cheeks burning.

"Such as when Arthur is supposed to be otherwise occupied?" he clarified, and Merlin nodded, biting her lip. He may not know of her magic, but she had threatened to kill his son. That was not good.

Uthur rolled his eyes as she pondered her life expectancy.

"That idiot," he muttered, and she nodded in agreement without thinking, blinked, then blushed again.

"I'll speak to Arthur," he told her seriously, "and you will not let him have you hold yourself accountable for him skirting his duties in the future, understood?"

"Yes, my lord." She bowed her head.


End file.
